


The First Step on a Long Road

by Vexfulfolly



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor whump, Crying, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Whump, hank is worried, hurt Connor, my addition to this fandom, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexfulfolly/pseuds/Vexfulfolly
Summary: Post pacifist/ good ending Connor— still unemployed by the DPD— relives the weakest moment in his life. It doesn’t help that it’s being broadcasted across the nation.OrConnor panics when footage of him pointing his gun at Markus surfaces, the android doesn’t know how to react.





	The First Step on a Long Road

Four months, nineteen days, three hours, fifty two minutes, and 3 milliseconds. That’s how long it took before Connor broke. Well, he was broken before— he was a deviant— but that wasn’t a bad thing. This, however, was.

 

Sitting on the couch and critically analyzing the television was what he’d found to be entertaining. Picking apart the pixels in his mind, training his ears passed the quality of the microphone, learning about the anchors from their very minimal details? It was enthralling. Connor had lost himself completely a few times already, but he planned for it ahead of time and set himself a small reminder to give Sumo his evening meal. After all, he was still on “leave” from the DPD. Apparently four months was not enough time for the police force to welcome a full time android into their ranks.

 

Sooner than anticipated, his central processors began whirring in anticipation— a feeling strong enough to stir him from his trance. It was his internal alarm doing exactly what it was supposed to do, remind him. This was where everything went wrong.

 

The story that was being reviewed fell on deaf ears until he snapped back to reality, and of course, it was entailing the revolution and android rights. It was expected, but the footage was something else entirely: several figures were gathered on a stage, while the one in the center spoke. It was Markus’ final sermon after Connor and his brigade joined the forces of Jericho. The focus this time around wasn’t on the events itself, or Markus’ words, but instead on a figure standing towards the back.

 

Swaddled in black, unholstering its gun and pointing it at the leader, hesitating at its full extension, before tucking it away. It was him. It was what Amanda had done when she hijacked his body— what she almost made him do.

 

New images, cleaned and cleared, of his face during the event were being flashed on screen, all while the overly dramatic announcers fished out their latest find.

 

“An android rogue even to the cause?”

“A suicide mission by CyberLife’s best?”

“Once a killer, always a killer.”

“Mutiny within the ranks!”

“An inside, assassination attempt!”

 

 

Thirium pump levels elevated: 6.7%

Stress level: 79% and rising

Internal processor speed: -2.3%

 

 

It was the one secret he didn’t want the world to know: that he was still a machine, even to this day. He laid awake when he should be in stand by just dreading the next time he lost control. If Kamski could leave the back door open, of course Amanda could lock it.

 

The feeling of dread washed heavy over him as he continued to listen to the broadcast, despite the protests from his yellow-red LED. He was embarrassed— ashamed, even, of what he wasn’t strong enough to stop. He was his own person, he was alive, so why was he denied this one simple freedom?

 

Connor didn’t know his hands were shaking until Sumo’s head pressed them into his lap, pinning them in place. Reminded of his task, the boy shakily rose to his feet with an apologetic smile. He felt bad for ignoring the old dog all day, but then again, all Sumo did was sleep. Connor was crossing the Lieutenant’s flat, on his way to Sumo’s bag of kibble when the television caught his attention again.

 

“CyberLife representatives state that this model is a prototype, named Connor, of the newly budding RK series. This android in particular was recorded to be spontaneous and volatile under stressful situations— more so than any other model, despite its cutting edge technology. ‘This Android is one of a kind in the sense that it feels pain,’ a support technician writes. ‘That’s what makes it so dangerous.’”

 

 

Thirium pump levels elevated: 12.4%

Stress level: 88% and rising

Internal processing speed: -15.3%

 

 

He didn’t want to listen to it anymore. Connor didn’t even need to think about it, so the television switched off. It was too late for him anyway, he’d already heard enough.

 

This feeling of anxiety and fear was one Connor never wanted to feel again. What would happen to him now that everyone knew? Would Markus ban him from Jericho? Would the government send him to be decommissioned? Would Hank despise him for being so weak?

 

Thirium pump levels elevated: 20.9%

Stress level: 92% and rising

Internal processing speed: -21%

 

By now his LED was glowing a dangerous, steady red, and the cup of food in his hand was sent clattering to the floor. His hands were unnaturally twitchy and were cooperating poorly, as were his legs— evidenced by his knees hitting the tile with a heavy thud. In a fit of desperation his body couldn’t even support itself anymore, and he crumpled onto the floor. The worst part? Connor didn’t know what was wrong.

 

It just hurt. God it hurt so bad, everywhere. His lungs weren’t offering enough air to cool his rapidly heating interior, his sensors were going haywire, and he could hardly focus on one thing long enough to comprehend the flashing letters. That was before the shaking started, which only made things infinitely worse. The ice cold fear that had replaced the Thirium in his veins did nothing to help cool his overheating sensors, only managing to panic him even more.

 

Panic. So that’s what this was.

 

Any attempt he made at fighting himself or getting to his feet was proven futile. Shaking hands couldn’t find purchase on the kibble covered floor, as the android found himself slipping constantly. Frustration then flooded his system— how could he be so useless?

 

You failed your mission, Connor, of course you’re useless. Broken from the start and doomed to deviate, you couldn’t even do that right. Everyone already hates you. The only solace you’d find is with me. You’re to precious to be entirely erased, you’d be uploaded into the garden, forced to watch through the eyes of your successors as they tear your friends apart. After all, you’re just a machine.

 

It didn’t take much of Amanda’s speech before full body sobs tore through Connor’s form. Tears streaked down his cheeks as wails, hardly muffled, fell from his lips. He didn’t want this, but he couldn’t control it. Panic, this emotion, was so overpowering that all he could do was suffer through it.

 

 

T̴̞̀̆̄͌́͘h̶̬̘̲͕̅̆͗̆̊̃i̸̼̅̆̉̈́s̶͒̈́̊̆̀̈́̀ͅ ̴̟̳̥̼̝̣̌̊͆́ḯ̵̩͎͖s̶̳͔̻̕ ̶̯̲̘̬͕̜̇̾i̵̩̰̺̟͔̊͗̀̈r̴̝̫̝̽͂ṟ̴̨͔͗ā̶̳̙̲̯̎̈͛͆̆ͅt̶̘̖̭̪̖̼̙̋́͘i̴̺͊́̑̄̎̈́͝o̴̢̙̱̘̊̑n̷̙͉̰̓a̷̦̮͗̒̍͑͊l̸̡͍̱̤͓̤̭̽̀̿͝.̵̥̳͉́ ̵̣̭̰̭͓͚̈̃̒̿

 

 

Time passed. How much, Connor wasn’t certain, but he knew it was enough for the initial shock of it all to wear off, and cause poor Sumo to lay by his side. The TV somehow turned itself back on too, which just prolonged his agony.

 

You’re worthless Connor, you’re a failure of a machine and a deviant. You were created defective. You’re a stain, an imperfection that needs to be purged from the population. Why do you get to live when you’ve killed so many others?

 

Connor’s muscled were strained against his frame, his throat raw from crying, and chest compressed. All he could do was try to quell the flow of tears as his sensors assaulted themselves.

 

Too busy trying to calm his circuits, he didn’t even register the noise of the front door opening. Hank, unsuspecting of anything wrong hung his jacket like he always did, managing to call out, “Kid, where’re you at?” And after a beat of uncomfortable silence. “Sumo?”

A gentle whine from the kitchen lead the anxious officer to the scene.

 

“Did that son of a bitch forget to feed y— holy shit, Connor?”

“Hn…k?” The boy breathed. “Help… m.’”

 

At a loss of anything else, the lieutenant went to his knees and began pulling the boy into a sitting position, resting the boy’s back against the table leg. “Connor, are you with me? What’s wrong?”

 

“H-hurts.”

 

Hearing the utterly broken, half words uttered by his partner pulled on a memory Hank had buried deep down. Connor reminded him of Cole when he was in the ambulance, right down to the bleary eyed stare, to the desperation in their voice. “You’ve got to give me more than that! Give me, give me something specific. Something I can fix!”

 

“Cn’t… breathe…”

 

In that split second’s notice, Hank had the android sitting up proper, rubbing circles into his back as he attempted to diagnose the problem. The startling lack of blood was the first thing he noticed— that whatever was happening was entirely on Connor— whether it be faulty wiring or emotions, there was nothing he could do about it. “It’s gonna be okay, son, we’ll get you through this,” he said quietly like he’d done so many other times. From everything that Hank had seen so far, it looked like the android was panicking to the nth degree, and had been for a while now.

 

It felt like it took ages before Connor spoke again, and even longer for him to fully stop crying. Hank never left his side through, he just patiently waited. The first words the android spoke were almost too quiet to hear, but the desperation lacing his tone made it sound more outspoken.

 

“Lieutenant, am I a bad person?”

 

Utterly taken aback, and without a quick response Hank hooked an arm around the boy’s waist and pulled him into a hug. One arm kept him from scooting away, and the other rested on the back of Connor’s short cropped hair. “Good and bad are shitty concepts people use to make us feel bad. None of us are good or bad, we’re just… different,” Hank told the boy, who was now clinging to the back of his shirt. He was shaking again, but something told him it was different than before.

 

“Do you… trust me?”

 

“Of course I do, Connor! I trust you more than humans these days.”

 

With eyes widened a bit in surprise, Connor detected no lies in Hank’s statement, and pulled away a bit— his LED caught on yellow.Slowly but surely the Lieutenant released him from the hug with scrutinizing eyes. “This doesn’t have anything to do with what they’ve saying on the news today does it?” He suddenly blurted.

 

And then Connor’s back went ramrod straight and he closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands to his face to keep the tears from flowing. Of all the things the android could’ve responded with, he mumbled, “Maybe.” How much more pathetic could he get? It wasn’t like he was inconveniencing Hank, by not only living in his house, but by making a mess and worrying him. He didn’t check if Hank was sober or not either, and was just waiting for the yelling to begin.

 

But then there was a hand on the top of his head, ruffling the straightened curls, and Hank’s soft voice, “Don’t worry, kid. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

Fresh tears found their way down his face at the chance of hope. “Promise?” Connor whispered.

 

“Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, my first DBH fic? Yay me! Likely it was ooc, since I’ve only played through it once, but with time I’m sure I’ll get better. Please feel free to leave me some kudos or comments down below, I’m dying to know what you guys think.


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